


confidant

by nonopiimagines



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Swearing, awkward confessions, mass effect holiday cheer 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22601710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonopiimagines/pseuds/nonopiimagines
Summary: Joker takes a break to go bother Shepard up in her quarters.A gift for my Mass Effect Holiday Cheer giftee, andersonsbiceps! <3
Relationships: Jeff "Joker" Moreau/Female Shepard
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	confidant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andersonsbiceps](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=andersonsbiceps).



"Hey, choose me."

She turned to look at him, complete confusion on her face. Her hand was paused above the array of paperwork on her desk. He wondered for a moment why paper still existed. Perhaps for moments like this one, providing a period of time where a person could bother another person without _really_ interrupting what they were doing.

“What?” 

He was impressed that he was still able to look at her, tamping down the desire to turn his head away and blow off his next few sentences in favor of a joke. He cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his chair, “You heard me. Choose me.” He wished that he could be leaning nonchalantly on the wall or sitting on the edge of her desk, something that evoked confidence instead of sitting too straight in the weird minimalistic furniture that adorned the Normandy.

She turned back towards her desk and away from him, a chuckle and a smile swivelling out of view. "I don't know what you mean, Joker. Choose you for what exactly?" She picked up her pen but didn't start writing, waiting for him to answer the question, placing the pen by her mouth, completely unaware of what was coming.

The rehearsal of words he had repeated to himself over and over just hours before left him entirely, leaving his mind empty but words bubbling up dangerously from his heart. But he wanted to know. "What would you choose me for?"

"You're being really weird," she scoffed, throwing her pen down and turning back to him to face him fully. It was getting really difficult not to look away, especially when determination lit up her face and her eyes wore into him, searching for the answer to his cryptic questions. "But I'll play along."

He nodded at her to keep going, willing her to find the truth he was suddenly too afraid to say outright. God, she was intimidating, even right now, even when it was just the two of them, from the beginning to the end. He could feel the rapid pace of his heart and he was keenly aware of the other times in his life when he felt like this, like this was the moment that would change him forever, but this time it was something good. Not being chased by praetorians, not watching the destruction of the Normandy, not watching _her_ die. No. It was a confession.

It took her a few moments, but it was clear that she knew her answer almost immediately. She leaned forward, closer to him, resting her forearms on her knees, keeping her clear, keen eyes on him. "Most people might say they'd choose you for a pilot and they'd be right," she paused, her gaze roaming around his face as she searched for her words. "But I'd choose you for a therapist."

Now it was his turn. "What? Commander, despite what you may believe, I'm not a therapist, I just play one on TV." That earned him what would've been a shove in another life, but ended up as a swift pat on his hand. She was always careful, always thoughtful, but still unwilling to take his bullshit.

"No, listen to me." She was serious, all joking and smiles aside, her face went back to it's stoic demeanor, but fondness poured from her eyes. "You know all my secrets, you've seen me at my best and my worst, you've even seen me dance! But you always treat me the same. You're always one hundred percent real with me, you don't sugar coat anything, and I trust you to stay that way. I may not show it all the time, but I need you more than you know. You're more than just my pilot."

He was taken aback by the way the words just erupted from her mouth, no fear or unease behind them, just pure organic unbound emotion. Emotion towards him, about him, for him. It was too late by the time he noticed his cheeks felt hot and his mouth was opening and closing much like a fish.

"Maybe therapist isn't the right word. I don't want you to _have_ to listen to all my fucked up shit, but I trust you with it, is what I'm trying to say." She almost looked embarrassed for a moment, floundering for the right words, but he couldn't count it as a win because he was sure he looked just as mortified as her. "Confidant might be more realistic." 

Therapist? Confidant? What he wanted to hear was aggressively sexy bed and life partner, but he knew those words would never come out of her mouth in that order. He took off his hat and scratched the back of his head as an excuse to look away for a moment, wondering what he should say next, if he was allowed to read into her words for more than their surface value. Yeah, they knew each other for a long time. Yeah, he knew just as much about her as she knew about him. Yeah, there was a mutual layer of trust connecting them always. They always _knew_ all that, but hearing Jane say it to him, a confirmation of the last few years they've spent together, a confirmation that she had seriously thought about their relationship beyond their rank and title, a confirmation that she didn't just think of him as a co-worker or even a friend. _You're more than just my pilot._

"Did I give you the answer you wanted? Did you come up here just to fish for compliments?" Her teasing tone and broad smile were back, doing what should’ve been his job of diffusing a tense situation with jokes and sarcasm.

He smiled back at her, placing his hat on the table next to him. He felt exposed, no brim to hide his face but he needed the rush of adrenaline to keep him going. The conversation couldn't end here. He had gotten this far, all that was left was the hardest part. 

"Uh, yeah kinda and no." Keep going, she won't stay here forever playing this weird close-quarters eye contact and bare your heart game of tag with you, he begged to himself. Keep going.

"Yeah kinda?" She rolled her eyes and sat back, leaning her head on her fist. "Then what should I choose you for, Jeff?" There was a little twinkle in her eye every time she said his name, his real name, like she was bragging, everyone knows Joker, but only she knows Jeff. It ignited a fire inside him, pushing him forward. Keep going.

“I see the way they look at you. Garrus. Liara. Kaidan. Even fucking Javik. Everyone loves you. And I, uh,” he looked at his hands, knowing that this declaration wasn’t as momentous as it sounded in his head. But it needed to be out there. “I want you to know that I’m looking at you too.” 

She was quiet and he was too afraid to look up to see what she was thinking, to see if he had truly messed up or not. Maybe all she wanted was a confidant. That would be okay. He could walk out of here, back-pedal everything he said, and carry on like nothing changed. Him and the commander are just _really_ good friends, the kind that don’t sleep together, but the kind that still share everything with each other. He would be okay with that (but only after a few days of staring into the abyss of space, listening to whiny pop punk songs, wondering what could have been so he could push it all away and continue). 

“So,” she began, her voice suddenly quiet and small. He heard her movements as she got up out of her chair and knelt in front of him, to take his hands in hers, to force him to stop staring at himself and do what he claimed he was doing all along: looking at her. “You’re saying if I choose anyone at all, choose you.”

“Yeah, choose me.” Those words alone took everything out of him, to keep his voice steady, to not be a total creep and word-vomit out his feelings, to say just enough that he got the point across. Her eyes were darting over his face again, perhaps wondering if he was joking with her but he wasn’t. He wouldn’t joke about this. “I can be your therapist, I can be your confidant, I can be the pilot you bang on occasion, whatever you want.” 

She laughed at that, her face close enough to his that she had to turn her head. He felt the whispers of her stray hairs on his cheeks and for a moment his heart stopped when she looked back at him, nothing hurtful or distrustful in her face, just a smile that was always there when he looked at her. Was it overconfident to think it was him that made her smile? A boy could dream. 

“Okay,” she nodded, still so close to him.

“Yeah?” He had to be sure.

“Yeah.” 

“I think we should kiss, just to seal the deal.” 

“You’re right, it’s the diplomatic thing to do.” 

He watched her and she watched him. But she was always the one to move first, to react quickly to situations, to make the most of a pivotal decision. Her hand lifted, gripping the couch to hoist herself up, to straddle his lap, always hovering just above him, pushing his head back just by the sheer force of her willpower. Jane was all muscles and scar tissue and cybernetics and everything about her screamed that she could rip him apart if she wanted to, but her lips were soft and her hair was softer when he put his hand in it, to let it slide through his fingers, wanting the moment to last forever, to feel her breath on his and the warmth radiating from her body above him. She was life and she was death and then it was over. One chaste kiss and then she was pulling away, he could only see her smirk before she pushed his hat back on his head, using the brim to cover his eyes while she moved away, back to her chair, back to her desk, back to the paperwork that made this all possible. 

And all he could think was everything was worth it. Every part of this was fucking worth it.

“Now, don’t you have a ship to pilot?” Jane said after a moment of watching each other, waiting for someone to say something, to break the spell, to interrupt the satiated feeling of telling someone your last secret. 

“I can stay here all day. EDI can take care of things.” He _wanted_ to stay forever. He felt reborn, ready to take everything head on, but also ready to spend an extensively long time laying around, being in her presence, soaking up her existence into his, as they lay together face-to-face. He felt like a goddamn teenager, but there was no better feeling.

“You’ve become a distraction, Joker,” she stood up again, offering him a hand to help him up too. “Especially in the last 10 minutes.”

He smiled at that. Who else could distract _the_ commander Shepard? His thoughts turned to Anderson and what sort of hell would be raised when he found out that the one guy he trusted to keep Shepard out of trouble might be the same asshole who’s getting her into trouble. That could be distracting too. He grimaced but continued, “I’m happy to be a distraction for you anytime.”

She seemed to think about that as she walked him to the elevator, his hand still holding hers purposefully, full of intent, finding it really difficult to let go, even when the sound of the elevator doors welcomed him into its cold, empty embrace. 

“You could distract me later, when I’m done being commander and I’m ready to be Jane,” she offered, finally letting go of his hand, but keeping her body weight against the door of the elevator to prevent it from closing. “I’ll call you up.”

“Looking forward to it, _commander_.” He hoped he didn’t sound too eager, too puppy-like in his infatuation. He waved at her as she stepped back, her arms folding as the doors began to slide close.

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can't convince me that any sufficiently large human-related organization would've abandoned paper by the 2100's. also, i decided to use the rich text editor this time, that was a mistake.
> 
> find me on the tumblr @nonopiimagines


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